Landmine - Post Malone

3

After getting out of the shower and drying then dressing in a warm tracksuit, Dillon feels a little more human. She has managed to get her emotions back in check and is no longer a prisoner to weak emotions. She will let Austin feed her and sleep, and then in the morning; she will demand he directs her to Luke's front door - she will bang on his door until he grows tired of her constant demands and tells her something about Isla. Brushing her hair back into a tight ponytail, she looks at herself in the mirror. Luke had fucked her up good and solid, and it will take her a while to heal. But, Austin had done a good job at cleaning her up.

What is their story anyway? The two men have little love for each other that's for dam sure. But, why? Austin had arrived at the bar looking for a confrontation with Luke over something. She had not seen what he had dumped on the pool table, but whatever it was, was a bone of contention between the two men. She will admit to herself, though, that the two men are polar opposites. Luke had smashed her face in without a second thought and no remorse whereas Austin had saved her, fixed her up and remained patient while she freaked out and then simply fixed her up again. But, she is not stupid. Luke and Austin may hate each other, fair enough, but they are clearly cut from the same cloth. She knows better than to trust someone based on just one act of kindness.

She finds thick socks in his closet and is sure he won't mind her using them for one night, so she slips them on. The extra padding offers a soft cushion and makes it easier for her to walk on her feet. She opens the bedroom door and steps out of the bedroom. The trailer is filled with the smell of warm food and Dillon's stomach growls. She had not realised how hungry she is and can't remember the last time she ate. Austin is seated at a table and gestures for her to sit down across from him where a large plate of steaming hot stew sits. So she slips into the chair and immediately starts shoving the stew into her mouth. It's good and she is starving.

"Slow down, or we will have to contend with stomach cramps, too," Austin says, leaning back in his chair and taking a long sip from the beer in his hand. "May I have one of those too, please?" Dillon asks. Austin huffs a laugh then leans over and opens a small fridge, pulling out a beer and opening it for her before he passes it over. "Thank you," she whispers, taking it and then knocking back a sip before she goes back to eating again. She gets through most of the stew before her stomach screams at her to stop so she takes one more bite and pushes the plate away. Leaning back in her chair, she takes another sip of her beer and looks at Austin, who has been watching her quietly.

"What's your deal? Are you a gang member or a cowboy? Maybe an ex-con...or a current one..."

Austin looks down at his body, lifting one arm to inspect his tattoos and then back at Dillon.

"I am just a Rodie."

"You in a band?"

"Rodeo..."

"What, like rodeo as in bull riding and...rope shit?"

Austin chuckles and shakes his head. "Something like that," he says. "What do people do at rodeos?" she asks. She is not stupid. She knows what rodeos are and what they entail, she is just making conversation and throwing questions out while she evaluates him. She has established three things about him so far. One, he is kind but has a tough as fuck exterior. Two, the man is not in a hurry. He walks leisurely and speaks in a slow drawl. His accent is so thick it's a little hard to understand him at times, so she is thankful his speech is slow. Three, that belt buckle of his plays on her mind.

Austin shrugs his shoulders and takes a sip of his beer. "Things," he says after swallowing his sip.

"OK, I will rephrase. What did you do at the rodeo?"

"Bronc ridin'."

"Sounds stupid. You could break your neck."

He chuckles and nods his head then takes another sip of his beer. Dillon looks around the trailer, her eyes landing on the trophies and ribbons. "What are those trophies and ribbons for? Bronc riding?" she asks, pointing to the line of trophies and ribbons on the shelf that she notices now runs around the entire border of the trailer. There are hundreds of them.